


Novena

by IoanNemos



Series: Start Here [2]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Language, rated for:, situational Catholicism, unspecified injury to a minor, update: you can now read the English translation of the prayer via hovertext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7065580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IoanNemos/pseuds/IoanNemos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Here are your upturned hands. …<br/>Here is your humble offering, / obliterated and broken in the mouth / of this abandoned church."<br/>Caitlyn Siehl, "Start Here"</p>
<p>Sam Drake isn't Catholic, but he knows how to pray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Novena

 

 

 

> A/N: I'm neither Catholic nor Spanish; I tried to be respectful to both.
> 
> Novena is Latin for nine, and within Catholic terminology usually refers to "a prayer or devotion offered on nine consecutive days" [[link](http://www.integratedcatholiclife.org/2013/09/ask-a-carmelite-novena-prayer/)], though there are also nine-hour novenas.
> 
> St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes. Hover over the Spanish for a mostly-Google-translate translation into English.

* * *

 

The paper is starting to tear in his hands. He keeps turning it over and over: stare at St. Jude, flip. Stare at prayer, flip. Stare at St. Jude, flip. Stare at prayer, flip…

_Apóstol gloriosísimo de Nuestro Señor Jesucristo…_

It’s comforting, he thinks, that St. Jude looks exactly the same on the Spanish cards as he did on the English ones. That’s how he knew to pick this one out of the bank of cards in the hospital chapel.

_…aclamado por los fieles con el dulce título de ABOGADO DE LOS CASOS DESESPERADOS…_

In other circumstances, he’d think the all-capitals were a little over the top. Now, he thinks the whole prayer through repeatedly in desperate, screaming whispers.

_…hazme sentir tu poderosa intercesión aliviando la gravísima necesidad en que me encuentro._

_Gravísima necesidad_. Dire need. If ever he had a dire need…

_Por el estrecho parentesco que te hace primo hermano de Nuestro Señor Jesucristo, por la privaciones y fatigas que por El sufriste…_

He looks up from the card to the morning sun coming in through the broken windows and collapsing roof, illuminating the leaning walls, askew wooden pews, empty cans and bottles, dust and graffiti. Shingles shift under his pacing feet. Someone has crudely redrawn the crucifix at the front of the church with red spray paint.

_…por el heroico martirio que aceptaste gustoso por su amor, por la promesa que el divino Salvador hizo a Santa Brígida de consolar a los fieles que acudiesen a tu poderosa intercesión…_

Whoever spray painted the crucifix left Jesus’ face completely blank. The angle of the chin and the crown of thorns suggest he’s looking down. Sam finds himself trying to position himself in Jesus’ line of sight anyway.

_…obtenme del Dios de las misericordias y de su Madre Santísima la gracia que con ilimitada confianza te pido a Ti, Padre mío bondadosímo, seguro que me la obtendrás siempre que convenga a la gloria de Dios y bien de mi alma. Así sea._

“Please,” he says, breaking voice echoing. He clasps his hands, kneels on the unstable ground. “Please. He’s all I got.”

_Glorioso Apóstol San Judas Tadeo, ruega por nosotros._

_Please_ , he prays. _I’m not asking for money to pay for the hospital bills, or an easier way to put food in his mouth._

_Glorioso Apóstol San Judas Tadeo, ruega por nosotros._

_I’m not asking for easier. I’m not asking for better. I’m not asking for more._

_Glorioso Apóstol San Judas Tadeo, ruega por nosotros._

_I just want him back. Please._

_En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amén._

 

 

When he finally stands again, he feels empty and exhausted. He looks into the blank face of Jesus and lays the prayer card on a corner of the altar before stumbling out into the cool evening air.

When he arrives back at the hospital, he sees Victor pacing in front of it, smoking a cigar like it’s his last. His heart slithers out of his ribcage and he walks the last few yards with it somewhere beneath his feet.

Victor spots him and nearly chokes on the cigar smoke. “There you are,” he coughs, striding over and pulling him into a hug. “Goddamnit, kid! Where the hell have you been all day? He’s been awake for hours, wondering about ya!”

“Oh,” he says, oxygen returning to the atmosphere. “I… I was praying.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

[I found the Spanish translation of St. Jude's prayer [here](http://www.devocionario.com/santos/judas_1.html).]


End file.
